


action. reaction.

by 8BitSkeleton



Series: discovery [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys in Skirts, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Feelings Realization, First Time Blow Jobs, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Holding Hands, Introspection, Kink Discovery, Kissing, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Self-Discovery, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8BitSkeleton/pseuds/8BitSkeleton
Summary: They’re doing this backwards. Seungmin knows they are.But maybe they needed it that way. That first, forceful push into the deep end to then wade out into the shallows and figure it out.Because, after everything, it's what's brought them here.
Relationships: Kim Seungmin/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: discovery [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144661
Comments: 32
Kudos: 272





	action. reaction.

**Author's Note:**

> part TWOOOOO. if you haven't read part one, it is slightly necessary? but not needed to understand this one.
> 
> honestly i didnt really intend to write this This soon after part one but 2min snuck up on me and stole my spine so i had to do it. 
> 
> thank you again to the lovely lovely [@l0addgun](https://twitter.com/l0addgun) for the moral support on this one. you are the greatest.

They’re doing this backwards. Seungmin knows they are.

But maybe they needed it that way. That first, forceful push into the deep end to then wade out into the shallows and figure it out.

Because, after everything, it's what's brought them here.

They're on Minho's bed, hidden behind the cover of his curtain. It's barely eight at night. Half the others are out doing god knows what. But that's not really a concern. It’s not like they're doing anything wrong, anything illicit.

This is the most he's ever looked into Minho's eyes. Head on his pillow, facing him. He feels shy in a way he didn't feel when Minho was underneath him in that practice room. Feels exposed, naked in a more poignant way.

Minho's eyes are so dark, the lashes which frame them fanned out so delicately as he blinks slowly. Seungmin can't shake the feeling of being examined.

They aren’t doing anything wrong but part of him still feels like they are. Like anyone who peeks into this little space they’ve carved out for themselves will see something they aren’t meant to. It feels private in some unnameable way.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Minho asks.

"Like what?"

A pause. A faster, contemplative blink. "You're not doing it on purpose?"

"I'm just looking at you, hyung."

"Looking…." His voice, a murmur. His eyes darting, searching.

"At you," Seungmin confirms.

They've only kissed the one time. Held hands right after they ate that same night, under the cover of dark, where they both had plausible deniability.

Nothing since. Days have passed.

Nothing until a few minutes ago, when Minho called him over and pulled him into his bed. Seungmin half expected a repeat of their practice room encounter.

Instead, they've laid here, breathing the same air. Sharing the same pillow. Looking.

Minho's eyes flutter closed. He settles more snugly into his pillow, puffing out a gentle exhale.

"You can stay here tonight," he says.

Seungmin doesn't point out that, though it’s night, it is still too early for them to even consider sleep, much less that neither of them are dressed for bed.

Instead, he settles into the pillow as well, timing his breaths to match Minho's.

+++

The next afternoon, Minho sits next to him at the table to have lunch.

This isn’t a new occurrence, shouldn’t be noteworthy. Yet— they’re the only two people at the table. Minho is _right next to him_. Their thighs press together in a way that’s reminiscent of their encounter in the restaurant. There’s a part of Seungmin that wants to grab him again.

But this— it feels fragile. He refrains.

They eat like that, not acknowledging each other’s presence. Not speaking.

Halfway through his food, Minho turns to him, chopsticks held up in his space. Offering Seungmin a piece of chicken. This also isn’t new. He offers food to everyone, one of his little acts of care. Ways of telling the others that he hopes they eat well. That he cares for them.

Seungmin turns, half facing him. He only stops for a second before he moves in and takes the chicken into his mouth. Minho meets his eyes while he chews, their gazes lingering. The elder’s eyes search his face, narrowing as he examines him, as if memorizing his every detail.

Seungmin looks right back, not deterred by his marked staring. He's never been one to back down from Minho and he's not about to start now, even when this encounter isn't their usual routine. It's not a fight. Not a struggle to come out on top. They're equals, at this moment.

So, he looks back. Examines every detail of Minho's face, drinking his fill. Though he's getting more and more opportunities lately to just _look_ at Minho, no ulterior motives needed, he still finds himself taking every advantage he can. Part of him is scared this'll end someday. He won't be allowed to look without being challenged on it. Without feeling embarrassed again.

Seungmin watches as Minho hums, ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Almost like he's come to a decision.

The elder turns, then, picks up another piece of chicken for himself. He chews slowly.

Seungmin turns back to his food, too, making a decision himself. He digs into his bowl, lifts his hand. Holds out some of his fried rice in Minho’s space.

Minho stops, blinking at the offering. Seungmin waits, knowing well enough by now that Minho needs time to process what's happening. Doesn't need to be rushed.

Sure enough, Minho takes the bite he’s offered. It's done so tenderly, Seungmin almost melts at the movement. He chews carefully, swallows easily, and looks up briefly. Almost says something. Seungmin almost prompts him.

Instead, he turns back. Continues eating his own lunch.

A few more seconds pass before Minho is pressing another piece of chicken into Seungmin's space. He takes it without pause this time. Offers another bite of his rice.

They feed each other like that, every other bite of food coming from the other’s plate. A mix-match of tastes, not clashing, but somehow finding a way to harmonize in their mouths.

+++

They’re on the couch now. It’s late late late. The lights are dim from some movie night they were roped into by Changbin, who got bored halfway through and left them to their own devices.

Seungmin would’ve left, too, if Minho hadn’t been sitting right next to him.

The climax of the movie is happening on screen when Minho shifts towards him. They’ve been scooting closer all evening, hesitantly but eagerly. Small increments.

Now, Minho turns to him, tucking his feet under him. Seungmin follows suit until they’re facing each other. He doesn’t know what the plan is until Minho catches his left wrist with his left hand.

Minho lifts his hand, holds him still. Seungmin looks on, eyebrows pulled together while Minho presses his other hand, a loose fist, into Seungmin’s palm. The fingers slowly uncurl, fingertips tickling Seungmin’s hand as their palms press together, fingers measured against each other.

Minho’s hands have always been smaller than his. That isn’t a new discovery — but it still _feels_ like one in the way he feels them pressed together. Another way he hasn’t been allowed to explore before. Seungmin curls the overhang of his fingers onto the tips of Minho’s, pressing down and highlighting the difference. He chuckles and Minho snorts lightly.

The hands shift. Slowly, clumsily. Minho’s hand on his wrist falls away as their fingers fumble into the spaces between each other. Minho exhales slowly as their hands intertwine, as if overwhelmed. Seungmin can’t fault him for it; he feels his own hand shake at the contact.

He can’t believe they’ve had sex before but their nerves tremble at _this_. Their fingers intertwined and palms pressed together in a moment unlike any they’ve shared before.

Seungmin looks up from their joined hands, searches Minho’s face for answers. He knows he prides himself on being hard to read but Seungmin has always loved mysteries. He can read the smallest parting of Minho’s lips (awe, surprise), the way he blinks quickly (thinking, recording the experience), the quick shift up (curiosity, searching for Seungmin’s reaction).

It’s exhilarating to see, to realize how well he knows him by now. He never knew he paid so much attention to Minho's every expression until he’s been offered it all up on a platter like this. Every twitch. Every microexpression.

Their hands lower into the space between them. Forearms on legs as they look at each other.

Seungmin moves, thinking on his feet. Pushing his luck. His right hand searches for Minho’s left. Their fingers intertwine easier, this time. Barely any practice in them and they’re already learning this bit of each other.

Seungmin smiles small, watches as Minho holds back what he knows would’ve been a wide, goofy smile. Instead, he averts his eyes, gets his expression under control. But when he meets Seungmin’s eyes again, his composure melts. Minho’s eyes are narrowed in a fond, dreamy way. The edge of his mouth tugs up into the softest smile Seungmin has ever seen. The sight of it makes his own smile grow, mouth parting in joy. Minho laughs, then, a small noise, a puff of breath.

Though it's a small act, Seungmin still feels like they've done something big. Another hurdle crossed. Another tally mark in their favor.

+++

Minho is toweling off his hair when Seungmin glances up from his journal, the sound of the door alerting him to the elder’s presence. He lets his eyes linger a little over Minho’s sleep pants, his worn shirt. Though he feels like he can look now, he still doesn't chance it.

He looks away before Minho’s head emerges from underneath his towel, focusing on the events of his day. Nothing special, just vocal lessons and guitar for him today.

He feels a shift at the ladder to his bunk, looks down to meet Minho's eyes. His neutral expression.

“What’s up?” Seungmin asks.

Minho doesn't miss a beat. “Looking.”

A small smile plays on Seungmin’s lips. “Looking?”

“At you. If you can do it, so can I.”

“Look all you want, hyung.”

There's a pause. Seungmin's smile grows as Minho blinks a few times before loosening a groan. “It’s uncomfortable to stand here.”

“Then come up.”

“Such a pain. Why don’t you come down to my bed? It’s more comfy.”

“No, I’m fine right here.”

Minho scoffs. Almost glares. Climbs up the ladder to slide in beside Seungmin.

He squeezes into the space between the railing and Seungmin, whose journal lays on his pillow as he turns back to scribble into it. He's almost done, too; won't let himself get distracted by the way Minho lays back and shuts his eyes, his still-damp hair making a halo around his head.

He focuses back in on his work. Recounts what chords he’d learned that day over the sound of Minho’s breaths. Writes down how his fingers feel raw from the strings, how his throat feels after trying to hit a new note today. It feels calming to do this with Minho so close by, his presence somehow a balm.

Seungmin signs off and closes the journal with a soft sound. He turns to watch Minho's chest rise and fall. There's movement beneath his eyelids that signals he's not asleep yet.

As if he can tell he's being watched, one of Minho's eyes crack open. He tilts his head to the side, inquiring.

Seungmin feels a smile tug at him. He looks over every inch of Minho's face, over every perfect feature, committing it all to memory, as if he hasn't before. As if he doesn't see it all when he closes his eyes anyway. The unnameable feeling in his chest grows a little larger as he looks, cutting off his breathing for a second.

Seungmin's eyes linger on Minho's lips, nerves spiking as he recognizes how close their faces are, the memory of their kiss taking front and center in his mind.

Minho's other eye opens, now looking at Seungmin with unabashed curiosity.

Seungmin shifts forward. He presses into Minho's space. Pauses. Waits to get told off.

When no such reprimand comes, he moves in further and finds Minho tilting his head to accommodate him.

Their lips press together softly. It’s an echo of their first kiss in its shyness. But, he knows now, learned from their first kiss that Minho parts his lips the second a kiss starts just to exhale softly, as if releasing the tension he holds in his shoulders. He melts into it, becoming pliant as they go. Seungmin presses in closer, leaning into his chest. Minho turns to him, careful fingers finding the back of his neck.

It's an echo of their first kiss because it's the same in all the ways that matter. Their warmth and closeness and tenderness.

What's different this time is how Seungmin parts his lips, shy tongue licking into Minho's mouth. When Minho's tongue meets his, it's just as shy but more persistent. They tangle into it, tasting each other slowly, learning the ins and outs of each other all over again. Allowed to do it. Eagerly learning.

The door to their bedroom opens noisily, pulling them apart.

Hyunjin stands at the entrance, gaze searching before landing on them. It doesn't compute in Seungmin's head to scramble back before Hyunjin sees, and he watches as Hyunjin’s eyes narrow in examination before flying open.

"Oh," Hyunjin says. "Are you guys— um, I can go. If you need me to."

Minho answers before Seungmin's brain reboots. "No. It's fine. I was about to go to sleep anyway."

Hyunjin hesitates as Minho moves to sit up. Seungmin wants to stop him, wants to tell him to stay, but the smile Minho throws him as he climbs down the ladder makes him pause.

Now sure that his roommates aren't going to start sucking face again, Hyunjin moves to his bed, his expression a little too joyous for Seungmin's liking. Their eyes meet, Hyunjin quirking a smile in his direction, eyebrows raised incredulously. As if he's in on the secret now. Which, he is, but Seungmin won't admit to that.

He settles down, listening to Hyunjin rifle through his things, to Minho shifting in the bunk underneath him. Closes his eyes, ready to sleep.

His phone lights up with a notification then. One new message shining on Seungmin's face.

_**Lee Minho** _  
_> There will be other opportunities, Kim Seungmin. Don't feel bad._

The implications make his heart leap into his throat. He can practically picture Minho’s smirk.

Seems that, for all his waxing philosophical about Minho being easy to read for him, Seungmin has been a kids book for Minho. Had his expression been _that_ transparent, that open about wanting more from him? He hopes it wasn’t.

Judging by this text message, it had been.

Seungmin sighs. Hesitates with his reply. Hits send on the _I hope so._

He turns on Do Not Disturb and lays back down.

A second later, he hears Minho snort underneath him.

+++

The radio studio isn’t that big. The building it’s nestled into is way bigger. Seungmin and the others know it well by now, making their way over for music shows a few times a week by now. It's routine. Barely even a notable event by now.

What’s been new lately is his and Minho’s appearances here late at night.

Ever since their practice room encounter, Seungmin has tried to keep his feelings under control. But, most of the time, if they aren't in their dorm, are in front of cameras, they have the other members as buffers. He doesn't have to worry about lingering too much on the slope of Minho's nose or the curve of his smile because there's always something else to do, something else to distract him.

Their weekly radio appearances are the exception. It isn't a public appearance as a group. It's just him and Minho sitting next to each other with cameras watching their every move.

It's been like a test. Like he's been having to channel his energy into appearing as normal as he can. As unaffected by their closeness as he truly is.

So far, it's worked. Nothing new has popped up. They've kept things friendly, he likes to think. Normal.

Tonight is no exception. They’ve done their song and dance, laughed for a while, made fools of themselves, taken selfies, completed punishments. It’s normal. It’s what they’re meant to do.

Once done, they make their way down the long hallway to the parking lot where their van waits. Their manager walks with them, as always, while Minho idly taps on his phone, Seungmin fiddles with the zipper of his coat.

Then, Minho stops in the middle of the hallway. Makes the other two stop as well.

“I forgot my scarf,” he announces.

Their manager looks back up the hallway, considering. “I can get it. Where’d you leave it?”

“Right on the chair in the studio.”

“Do you wanna wait here? I think the van's already—”

“We’ll wait. Thanks, hyung.”

His footsteps retreat. Minho leans against the wall, smiling at Seungmin with a calculated look. He takes off his mask, gives Seungmin a look that tells him he should follow suit. He thinks he knows where this is going and it is not a good idea, but he'd be a liar if he said he doesn’t want it to happen.

The moment their manager turns the corner for the stairs, Minho surges up and seizes Seungmin’s collar, pulling him closer on stumbling feet. Seungmin’s eyes widen at the roughness, feeling their chests press together, their warmth mingling.

Their lips find each other before Seungmin can protest, the contact hot and heavy and too, too desperate for this whitewashed, bright hallway they’re in. He pulls back slightly, feels Minho’s arms snake around his neck.

“Hyung—” Another insistent kiss pressed to his lips. “What if someone— what if they see us—?”

Minho gives a deep laugh. “There’s no one here at this time, Seungminnie. You know that by now.”

And it’s true. They’ve been coming here for a few weeks now and have never encountered a single soul in this hallway at this time. It’s as good as abandoned.

“Cameras?” He tries.

“None at this angle.” Minho tightens his arms. “Now, shut up and kiss me.”

He doesn’t know how Minho knows that tidbit. Doesn’t ask. When Minho's this close, it's like all of Seungmin's logical thinking capabilities are obliterated, substituted for the animalistic urge of chasing what feels good.

He dives back in, tasting the strawberry of Minho’s lip balm, the iced coffee he was drinking earlier. And underneath, the subtler taste of something so Minho, it makes him want to dive in deeper, to parse and identify the notes of it. It reminds him of what his skin had tasted like, his thighs, but so much sweeter. Borderline addictive.

Their bodies slot together second later, Seungmin’s thigh sliding between Minho’s, making him moan lightly. The sound urges him on, makes him want to hear it again, so he curls his tongue against Minho’s, hearing his exhale.

In the heat of the moment, that unnameable feeling rears its head. Seungmin tries to rope it back into place because he knows. He knows that it's only unnameable because he refuses to put a name to it. It isn't unrecognizable. He knows what a crush is. Knows what liking someone, what having romantic feelings is. He isn't stupid — prides himself on the very opposite, actually. So, he knows. He can name the feeling in his chest very easily, can tell just why there are butterflies in his stomach as Minho presses in closer, a needy sound pushing past his lips and into Seungmin's mouth.

The intensity of his desire surprises him. He feels a bone deep ache to keep Minho to himself — his noises, his every expression. The slope of his nose. The curve of his lips.

It's surprising, even to him, when he presses in one last kiss before pulling back and leaning down to bite at Minho’s neck, hard enough to leave the skin red. Minho gasps loudly, hips stuttering into Seungmin’s without a second thought. He's bitten him — done something that could easily mark him. A horrible idea in their line of work, but he's done it before he can register, his logical thinking shot to hell.

It’s hard to pull away. The hardest thing he’s ever done. But he has to, before something else overtakes him. Just as he's leaving Minho's embrace, he swears he hears footsteps coming down the stairs and he knows it's time.

Minho’s arms slide off his shoulders as he steps back. He looks _wrecked_ , pupils blown, lips the prettiest shade of red, ears pink, and there, on the left side of his neck, is an angry, red mark. He stands there, chest heaving, staring at Seungmin as if he’s thinking of ways to devour him.

Their manager comes into view.

“Got it!” He says, holding the scarf up like a trophy.

Minho’s eyes don’t leave Seungmin. They slip their masks back on in silence as their manager hands the scarf over.

“Thank you,” Minho tells him, wrapping it around his neck immediately. Covering Seungmin's mark.

If their manager notices anything, he doesn’t say. The silence consumes them, even back in the van, where they exchange knowing looks before the dark of night overtakes them.

There, in the dark, Seungmin stares out the window watching the scenery pass by, listening to a soft song on the radio.

He feels the air shift to his right, looks over at Minho, spotting his outstretched arm, his searching hand. The look he gives Seungmin is expectant in that Minho way, the emotion muted but nonetheless present.

Seungmin answers the call, letting his fingers intertwine with Minho’s, their hands hanging between them in the dark as they make their way home.

+++

_**Lee Minho** _  
_> Come home._  
_> Quickly._  
_> Now._  
_> It's important._

Seungmin doubts it's life-or-death but he still hurries over from the company. He had to cut his guitar lessons short and placate their manager about his abrupt leaving but he makes it to the dorm unscathed, ten minutes later.

“Minho-hyung?” He calls out the second he’s through the door. The dorm is quiet, almost eerily so. He was so sure Hyunjin and Jeongin had been here when he left. Did they have something today?

“Took you long enough,” Minho scoffs from further inside. Seungmin turns the corner to watch him get up from the kitchen table.

He sighs. “Ten minutes is hardly a long time.”

Minho doesn’t answer. He turns into the hallway, walking towards their room. “Come with me.”

“Hyung? What was the— what was so important?”

“Come on.”

There’s an inkling in Seungmin’s mind of what’s happening, but he doesn’t dare jump to conclusions just yet, not without enough evidence. He follows Minho into their room, standing between the two bunks as the elder shuts the door.

“Sit down,” Minho orders.

Seungmin looks around, spots Minho’s curtain is open, the bed made. He takes that as an invitation, takes a seat on the edge of it. “Are you going to tell me what this is about anytime soon?”

Minho stands in front of him, expression carefully neutral. But Seungmin can see the joy hiding behind his gaze.

“Close your eyes.”

“Hyung?”

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." He doesn't even hesitate. "But why…?"

"Trust me."

Seungmin slips his eyes closed.

"I told Hyunjin," Minho says softly. Seungmin hears the shifting of fabric. "That if he comes into our room in the next two hours, I'll put chili oil on his pillow."

Seungmin snorts at that, knowing that Minho wouldn't make good on his threat but that the presence of it is enough to take him seriously. Still, the information makes Seungmin's cheeks burn, curiosity and nervousness spiking at what that could entail. _Two hours?_ That inkling comes back, full force.

"Open your eyes."

Seungmin does.

There, in front of him, stands Lee Minho.

In a _skirt_.

Seungmin feels his brain stop. He inhales sharply, eyes glued to the dark blue pleats of the plaid skirt that rides high on Minho's hips. The plain white shirt he was wearing is still on his top half, just now tucked into the skirt, highlighting his waist.

But it's the bottom of it that takes Seungmin's entire capacity to think away from him. Below the pleats, he can see the vast expanse of Minho's thighs, the skin that Seungmin has been fantasizing about for _weeks_ now.

"So?"

Seungmin feels his breath return to him all at once. He blinks, coming back to himself. "Hyung…."

He finally looks up from the skirt and into Minho's face. He looks powerfully confident in himself, the same exuberance in him that's reserved for big stages, bigger concerts. But Seungmin can see past that. He spots the hint of nervousness behind the confidence — exactly the same as when he's performing.

"You look beautiful," Seungmin says earnestly. Wholeheartedly. "You look incredible. It's so…" he reaches out, wanting to touch the fabric. Minho moves closer, lets him pinch the pleats between his fingers. "It feels like I'm dreaming."

"You've dreamt about this?" He can hear the smirk in Minho's voice.

It doesn't deter him. "Ever since that day. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

Seungmin feels bold, now. He lets go of the fabric and moves his hands to Minho's waist, tugging him closer, feeling the addicting warmth of him through the layers.

Minho's breath catches. "Is it everything you dreamed of?"

"No." He looks up. "It's better."

Minho gasps when Seungmin pulls him down onto his lap properly, those thighs settling on him again, reminding him of how good they feel. If he could keep Minho on his lap forever, he would. He wishes he could.

“So, I was right?” Minho settles his forearms over Seungmin’s shoulders. “You like seeing me in a skirt?”

Seungmin lets his hands trail down to his thighs, touching them over the skirt. “Are you going to rub it in?”

“Not yet. Maybe later.”

Minho leans in, kissing Seungmin with a fervor he recognizes from their previous encounter, in that back hallway on their way to the van. He holds nothing back, pressing into him hard, kiss after kiss leaving him gasping.

Their lips slide together, tongues exploring as Seungmin wraps his arms around Minho’s waist properly, pulling their chests flush against each other. He can feel how Minho’s breath gets heavier with each kiss, his own breaths matching his effortlessly.

And then he moves his hips. A small gesture that leaves them both gasping before they move together again and again, the small sparks of pleasure shooting up Seungmin’s spine. He’s half hard already. Minho can no doubt feel it with every shift of his hips.

They pull back, Minho pressing kiss after kiss to Seungmin’s jaw, down his neck. For a second, Seungmin thinks he's going to get him back for the bite. Thankfully, it hadn't bruised, but the redness had lingered all night. A reminder that he hadn't imagined it.

Minho doesn't bite him back, something he's not sure he should be grateful for, and instead kisses his neck gently. With his last kiss down to Seungmin's collarbone, he pushes back a little. Seungmin thinks he gets the message.

They move together, shifting back until Seungmin is laying down and Minho is making himself comfortable on his lap. He hits the ground running, then, grinding down again and making Seungmin gasp, making his hips move up of their own accord.

When he looks down at Seungmin, Minho is already grinning, his eyes half-lidded as he moves his hips in slow, sinuous circles. He looks divine, sitting in Seungmin’s lap like this, looking so sure of himself while driving Seungmin crazy with the barely-enough pressure on his hardening dick. He tightens his hold on Minho’s hips, hears himself panting out greedy breaths.

Minho sounds like he’s purring, voice low and sultry when he asks, “Are you going to lose it so soon, Seungminnie?”

He’s not, is the thing. He could, in theory, get off like this, but it’s not nearly enough. Not yet. Minho’s smirk is so self-satisfied, so confident in the answer, that it makes Seungmin want to wipe it off his face. He wants to make a mess of him.

So, he doesn’t answer, instead tugs Minho up off his lap and keeps pulling. When the elder shoots him a quizzical look, Seungmin meets his eyes. “I want to taste you.”

That knocks some of the composure off Minho’s face, makes him nod as he shuffles his way up Seungmin’s torso. They maneuver around each other, Minho’s knees settling on the sides of Seungmin’s head while Seungmin’s arms slot into the dip behind his knees, forearms curved onto the tops of his thighs, hands holding the insides of them. He can feel the slight pressure of Minho’s ass on his sternum but he can tell from the grip he has on the elder’s thighs that he’s straining not to put his full weight on him. Careful not to crush him.

It still brings him close enough to Minho’s crotch for it to matter, the warmth radiating off him in waves. He looks up, their eyes meeting for a second. Minho’s chest heaves, eyes dark and waiting for Seungmin’s next move. Anticipation heavy on his face.

Seungmin almost smiles. He turns before it can fully form, lifting his head to skim his lips over the skin of Minho’s thighs. It’s a soft touch, so teasing he’s surprised Minho doesn’t call him out on it. All he can hear is the other man gasping, all he can feel is the tremble of the thighs under his hands. He tightens his grip. On his second pass, he darts his tongue out, licking a light stripe over Minho’s skin. He feels a shiver wrack through Minho at the action, smiles a little wider as he moves in deeper.

But, he can’t. He feels himself strain a little, mouth not quite reaching what he wants. So, he pulls Minho up roughly, and Minho, already unbalanced, pitches forward, catching himself, hands on his pillow, before he falls. He’s curved over Seungmin now, the pronounced bulge under his skirt hovering right over Seungmin’s face. This time, Seungmin doesn’t hide his smile when their eyes meet, and he sees Minho’s eyes flash with surprise before he lifts the skirt and tucks himself under it.

Minho’s underwear is white, a pair of briefs that’s almost reminiscent of panties. Seungmin’s mouth waters at the sight of the vast expanse of skin, disappearing into the fabric. He doesn’t hesitate, diving his face into the outline of Minho’s cock and nosing around it, inhaling like he’s trying to parse the notes here, too. He smells clean, like fresh laundry and _Minho_ , that same flavor that he tastes on his tongue when they kiss. It’s so subtle but so present that Seungmin can’t help but open his mouth against him, wetting the cotton with his spit. He licks around the shape of him, hears him gasp and moan and shake with the exertion of keeping himself from crushing Seungmin completely.

The way the skirt drapes over Seungmin’s head, leaving him in the dark, makes him feel like what they’re doing is even more explicit than it is. Like it’s covert, something to be covered. It makes him even bolder when he hears Minho stutter out gasps the more spit he uses. He makes a mess of the underwear, feels Minho’s cock jump and strain against his lips.

He can’t take it anymore, wants to get his mouth on Minho properly.

With his leverage on Minho’s thighs, he pushes and shifts them, landing Minho on his ass, nearly hitting the edge of the bed in the too-small bunk space. He’s between Minho’s thighs again, just like their first time, but now, he wants to do what he almost did the first time.

Seungmin smiles up at Minho, whose chest heaves with gasps, a blush high on his cheeks. The skirt bunches up around Minho’s waist now, and Seungmin slips his fingers under the waistband of the underwear, bringing it down slowly.

He almost doesn’t want to move from his spot but it’s worth it when he’s able to take in the sight in front of him: Minho naked from the waist down, his cock full and resting on the wrinkled pleats of the skirt, chest rising and falling under his thin, white shirt. He’s a vision.

That same fondness he’s been pushing down comes back, and he can’t keep the soft smile off his face.

“You’re pretty, hyung.”

Minho meets his eyes, tilts his head. Slowly, his lips part, a sort of realization dawning on his face. Maybe the same realization that’s been sitting in the back of Seungmin’s mind in the weeks following their first encounter, when they’ve been building, slowly but surely, to this.

His voice is small when he speaks, as if he’s only just finding the words for it. “You’re pretty too, Seungminnie.”

It makes Seungmin smile, mouth wide and parting in happiness. Minho smiles, too, a small one. Fond.

With that same wide smile on his face, Seungmin leans down, takes Minho’s cock in his hand, and licks him purposefully from root to tip. The action punches a moan out of Minho from deep in his chest, back curving in pleasure.

He does it again, laving the heated skin with lick after lick, thoroughly wetting Minho’s cock until he’s shiny with it, until he’s slick enough for Seungmin’s hand to glide over him. He gives the elder a few pumps, feels his hips move into his hand desperately.

“Do you like it when I touch you, hyung?”

Minho’s hips continue to move in time with Seungmin’s hand. “Ah, y-yes, obv-obviously.”

“I like it, too.” Seungmin slows his hand, lays a fleeting kiss to his hip. A tender act. He pretends to ignore the whine it gets him in response, smiling into the skin. “I think I’ll like this better, though.”

That’s all the fanfare he needs before he holds Minho’s cock still at the base and takes him into his mouth properly. Minho gasps loudly, moans brokenly as Seungmin sinks down slowly. It’s music to Seungmin’s ears, the taste of him heavenly on his tongue.

He moves gently at first, suckling on the head and swirling his tongue around, getting accustomed to the weight of him in his mouth. He feels Minho shifting, trying desperately not to buck his hips. Seungmin looks up, watches as Minho arches his back, gulps in greedy breaths. A searching hand lands on the top of his head, fingers tangling into the strands. Seungmin hums at that, taking it as encouragement.

He can’t quite get Minho to the back of his throat but he still tries to, reveling in the way Minho tightens his hands in his hair. Just as he expected, he gags, feels Minho twitch at the vibrations. It doesn’t deter him. He just bobs his head, determined to be good at this. Maybe the best Minho’s ever had.

Minho gasps, grip on his hair going even tighter. “Don’t t-take too much. Y-you’ll ruin your voice.”

Seungmin knows. He knows, logically, that Minho is right. Yet, he doesn’t pause, only slows down his movements marginally. He builds up a rhythm, supplementing his movements with his hand, twisting on the upstroke and sucking hard. The sound is _obscene_ , wet and telling of what they’re doing, the slick of Seungmin’s mouth making a mess of the skirt, of Minho’s skin.

He can taste bitter drops of precum on his tongue as he moves, reveling in the way Minho squirms under him desperately. Every other sound out of his mouth is a gasp of pleasure.

“S-so good— _ah_ —” Minho moans, spurring Seungmin on even faster. He’s focused on Minho’s pleasure, fully aware of how hard he’s straining in his own jeans, likely leaking at how hot Minho is, but he pushes the thought aside for now.

“S-Seungm-min-ah—” Minho moans, struggling not to move too much. “ _Seung-min-ah_!”

He pulls off as soon as he gets the first taste of cum, feels the first pulse of him against his tongue. He doesn’t stop moving his hand, though, and he keeps his lips close enough for them to ghost over the head of Minho’s cock as he comes, shooting string after string onto Seungmin’s hand, his upper lip, his nose. Seungmin kisses him through it, mouthing at the head, gaze locked on the way Minho’s lips part, his eyes closed at the intensity of his orgasm. His eyebrows knit together, ears and neck shining bright red.

Minho moans Seungmin’s name as he milks him through it, as he jumps from oversensitivity. Repeats it like a prayer, over and over until Seungmin lets him go and lets him breathe.

They stay like that for another second. Seungmin licks around his lips, tasting Minho’s cum, before he trails messy, barely-there kisses up Minho’s thighs and makes him shiver past his panting.

When their eyes meet again, Minho’s are attentive. Seungmin smiles at him. He smiles back, a small thing, and reaches down to use his already messy skirt to wipe at the mess around Seungmin’s mouth. Seungmin hums in thanks, isn’t prepared when Minho weaves his fingers into his hair again, pulling him up.

He thinks they’re going to kiss but the other man’s eyes are too piercing to let him go. “You shouldn’t have made yourself go that far with it,” Minho emphasizes. “Your throat—”

“My throat is fine, Minho-hyung.” The slight rasp in his words begs to differ. They both hear it prominently. He tries again, “It will be fine. I’ll give it rest and drink some tea.”

Minho brings a hand up to Seungmin’s face, holding him still while he meets his eyes. They’re intense in a way Seungmin hasn’t identified before. “Don’t ruin your voice for me, Kim Seungmin. Don’t ruin any part of you just for me. Okay?”

For some reason, the words feel weighty. Loaded with emotion. One he can easily recognize. Just as easily name.

Seungmin brings his hand up, covering Minho’s grip on his face. “Okay.”

Eyes search over his face, examining him, before Minho leans in, pressing a bruising kiss to his lips. Seungmin takes it, all of it, everything Minho has to give, and he gives back some of his own, almost as good as he gets.

Minho gets a text from Hyunjin at the hour and a half mark that they’re both too busy to notice, using hands and lips on each other until they make an even worse mess of the skirt and of Minho’s sheets.

By the two hour mark, he gets a call, and it’s perfect timing. They’ve already gotten the bed cleaned up, kissed as they’d traded spots in the shower like a relay race, and cracked a window in their room. They’re presentable when Minho picks up on a shy Hyunjin, asking if it’s okay to come back yet.

“Not unless you're bringing food with you,” Minho answers sharply. “What’s for dinner, Hyunjin-ah?”

Seungmin laughs, legs on Minho’s lap as they sit in the living room. He can hear Hyunjin’s flustered tone but not his answer. Minho hums.

“Fine,” he says. “You can try and hide behind Chan-hyung but, just remember, you’re taller than him. I can see you back there.”

A muffled, startled laugh. Seungmin thinks he hears voices other than Hyunjin on the other end.

“Yes, we’re okay. You can come back now. Whatever. Goodbye.” Minho hangs up before Hyunjin replies. Seungmin fixes him with a quizzical look.

“They’re all coming back together. Chan-hyung offered dinner. Or, Ien-ah offered for him.”

Seungmin hums. “Maknae on top once again.”

“Mhmm,” Minho turns his body to Seungmin, blinking at him slowly. “They won’t be home for a while.”

Seungmin blinks back at him, acting clueless. “Oh?”

A scoff, a roll of the eyes. Minho crawls his way over to Seungmin’s lap. “Just kiss me already.”

And it’s not like Seungmin can say no.

Chan does end up buying them all food. It’s the first time in a while they’ve all eaten together at the same time and in the same space. They often make do on their own with their own meals at their own time but, apparently, today is different because they all somehow coincidentally bumped into each other just outside the company, and Jeongin, having been dragged from place to place by Hyunjin for two hours (“My feet hurt!” Their youngest complains at dinner), had talked Chan into buying them something to eat upon first seeing him.

So here they sit, eating their meals on the living room couch as a movie plays on their TV screen. Most of them sit around the low coffee table, save for Changbin and Felix, who take their dinner on the couch. Seungmin has Minho on his right, not close enough that their shoulders touch but still close enough that he feels his presence. To his left sits Chan, a more marked space between them. They dig into their dinner in relative quiet, save for Jisung pointing out the actor on screen and bickering with Changbin about what other stuff he’s been in. Seungmin smiles lightly as they yell at each other.

He feels Minho move, glances over to meet his eyes. Minho holds his chopsticks up, offering Seungmin a piece of beef. Seungmin doesn’t hesitate, leaning in to take the food from him. He chews, turns to his own food, picking around to find a suitable offering for Minho. When he looks up, he meets Hyunjin’s curious eyes. He’s sat at the side of the table, almost diagonal from Seungmin, and he’s paused his meal in order to look at them. Around them, the actor debate gets bigger, Chan and Jeongin throwing in some words as well.

Hyunjin trades his curious gaze between Minho and Seungmin, eyebrows lifted in surprise, his expression almost joyous as he examines them.

Seungmin doesn’t let it deter him. He picks up the rice cake on his plate and brings it to Minho’s mouth, watches as he takes his bite and chews it slowly. He meets Hyunjin’s eyes again. The expression on his face has softened considerably, looking between them almost tenderly now.

Seungmin scoffs and he doesn’t need to be looking at Minho to know he’s rolling his eyes. They turn back to their food, tucking in wordlessly. The actor debate peters off.

Underneath the table, he feels a hand nudge against his thigh before settling on top of it, the presence warm and comforting. Seungmin can’t help but glance at Minho, who gives nothing away on his face, simply focused on his food. Seungmin sets his chopsticks down, sliding a hand on top of Minho’s and squeezing. Reassurance. The act of telling him he’s here, solid. Real. Won’t be going anywhere.

He hopes the touch conveys all that and more. Everything that’s been said and left unsaid between them. The deeper feelings that won’t be addressed anytime soon, that will never be voiced. Because, in the end, he knows that some things don’t need to be given words. Some things, like Minho’s hand under his, turning slowly to lace their fingers together, say everything for them.

And for now, for _them_ , it's enough.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/MNCHNLX/) ♡ [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/8BitSkeleton)
> 
> thank u for reading. ily.


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